NightWalker
by MaoIsSleepy
Summary: Rikari lived a normal life; until her teacher dumped a cursed book on her! Whenever she sleeps, she unconsciously travels to an alternate world, the 'Ninjaverse'. Then she realizes that whatever happened there, happens in reality! And when Rikari's mom and twin brother disappear, she has to go to sleep... Permanently! OcxSasuke/OcxNaruto
1. The Encylopedia of W&A

Kneeling, I laced up my heavy, leather combat boots, pulling the strings as tight as possible. I switched to the second one, repeating the process. Finished, I stood up from the bottom of stairs, in my two story house. My feet pounded on our hardwood floor in our kitchen as I headed to our front door.

I passed my mom on my way. She was sitting at the counter, sipping coffee and reading the news. Her reddish-brown hair, streaked with a slight gray, was up in a sloppy pony tail, which told me she didn't have to work today. Her gold framed glasses sat at the edge of her nose, and her brown eyes met mine for a second.

"Have a nice day, Rikari." she smiles a little and I open the door.

"You too." I walk out onto our porch, slinging my black back-pack over my shoulder. Then I was on my way down the sidewalk, listening only to the rhythm of my footsteps. I closed my eyes, since I knew the way by heart.  
Something joined my unusual song; more footsteps. These had a faster tempo. I slowly opened my eyes and glanced behind, still walking.

"Geez, Rikari! Would it kill you to wait for me?" My twin brother, Quinn, asks. I knew he wasn't expecting an answer; just an apology.

"Sorry," I said, in an un-sorry tone of voice. He slowed his pace when he reached me, settling in my usual stroll.  
Here's the thing about me; I'm a little laid back. Okay, not really a little. Quinn sometimes calls me the Queen of indifference. I just think I'm lazy and apathetic, not indifferent. I'm not cold-hearted or anything.

I glanced at Quinn through the corner of my eye; He had sandy blonde hair, like dad, and brown eyes, like mom. He also wore square framed glasses and had a tiny mole under his left eye. It was stark in contrast on his fair skin. He was wearing our school uniform; navy blue slack, matching tie, and an ordinary white dress-shirt. Our school was public, so the committee board decided to have an easy, cheap uniform.

Besides his hair, Quinn was more like our mother. He had a very lanky build (he was totally chest club material) and his arm muscles were about the same as mine; nonexistent. He was taller than me, though, which sort of pissed me off because: A: We twins, and B: I was the older of us two, by twelve minutes.

Quinn was very vibrant, especially when it came to books. He loved talking about all that nerdy stuff I'm not smart enough to comprehend. His personality could practically be described in one word; bubbly. He smiled all of the time, enough to get on my nerves. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything wrong with smiling. In fact, I think it's better than frowning, but he has one of those grins that seem far too innocent, like he just robbed you blind or put a tack on your chair.

Me? I couldn't be any more different. My eyes are gray, and my hair is an auburn color; not quite red, but not really brown. It was pretty long; it went down to my mid-back.  
The only thing that marked us as twins was the moles; I had an identical one under my left eye mine blended in a little bit more, since my skin was a tad darker.  
I wore a girl's uniform (white dress-shirt, navy blue bow-tie, and a blue skirt, which I had black leggings under), but it was all under my long, black coat.  
It wasn't really a trench coat, but it could have passed for one. It just wasn't the right style. On my head I wore a leather, tarnish-brown hat and matching leather gloves. They fit me perfectly, and the leather was so soft...

Anyway, I returned to walking with my eyes closed.  
And again, I was interrupted when Quinn asked me,

Why'd you dress so heavy? It's May!" I sighed and reopened my eyes. I looked straight ahead, though, turning the corner at the street.

"Because I thought it was going to rain." Quinn inspected the sky, which was perfectly blue, not a single cloud. He shielded his eyes from the sun, giving me a suspicious look.

There're no clouds, and the forecast said it would be sunny all day," he pointed out. I shrugged my shoulders, instinctively shoving my hands in my pockets.

"I could be wrong."  
But I wasn't. It just didn't start raining until 7th hour.

* * *

Eighth period was very dull; almost every kid in my class was stupid, high, or really snobby. Thank goodness I had a window seat, so I could stare out of that whenever I flat like banging my head into my desk repeatedly. I felt really cold; the school doesn't allow anyone to wear coats, hats, or gloves in the classroom. I always played with my skirt; I felt uncomfortable in them, that's why I wore the leggings. But I still found myself tugging it down every time I felt it ride up, even a little bit. It wasn't as if anyone was looking; I wasn't the prettiest girl in my school; heck, in my class. No guy would even remember to check me out; I was practically invisible. Not that I really cared. At least I didn't get bullied.

"So I would like you to read 'To Kill a Mockingbird', if you already haven't. It was very awakening for me, and how different things were like in the 1960's," my English teacher, Mr. Ferrymen, said, regaining my attention from the window. What was he talking about?

"You have two weeks," he finished, just as the bell rang. He dismissed us, and not a single kid lingered.  
I all but ran to the door, but only to be stopped by Mr. Ferrymen.

"Oh, Rikari, before you go," he held up his hand for me to stop and, once I had, rummaged through his desk drawers.  
My English teacher had an after-noon shadow, and longish white hair. He was about twenty-three or so, and had been a teacher for at least five years now.  
Apparently he found what he was looking for; a book. He handed it to me and I examined the front cover.  
It said 'The encyclopedia of W&A'. It was a deep burgundy, with gold ribbons for tassels and a misty smell from the old glue used to keep it together. I blinked at it.

"Well, I know you already read 'To Kill a Mockingbird' earlier this year, so I'll let you do your report on this book instead."  
We were writing reports? Instead of asking that, however, I said,

"But it's an encyclopedia." He waved his hand and began to shuffle through his papers again.

"Just read it and pick your top five articles." He continued to open his desk and rummaged through that as well.

"Are other students going to read this, too?"

"No, there's only one copy so they get different ones; that is, if they haven't read 'To Kill a Mocking Bird'."  
I just stood there, still slightly confused. After all; I'd never read it either. Not to mention an encyclopedia was a difficult reading. I think I was zoning off a bit when Mr. Ferrymen goes,

"Oh, good, here it is!" I couldn't help but notice the relief in his voice. His fingers fumbled as he pulled out a yellow slip of paper, rolled up like a scroll. It looked ancient; I wondered briefly why he would take such poor care of something so important looking. He rolled it flat on his desk and sighed in relief. I glanced at the words scripted on the parchment. They were in the loopy-cursive you see in important documents from the 1800's. The difference was that this was in a different language. To my surprise, Mr. Ferrymen took out a fountain pen, a nice, old relic from the 1920's or something. He handed it to me and gave a weak smile.  
I noticed for the first time how rushed he looked; he was practically sweating and his hands slightly shook, like he was carrying a heavy weight and his muscles needed a break.  
Looking back down at the scroll, I asked,

"What's this for?" Mr. Ferrymen stiffened.

"It's like..."

"Like a check-out contract?" I offered. He smiled again, only weaker.

"Yes, this... Um... Comes with the book..."

Alright guys. Yes, something fishy is going on; did I notice it? Yes. Did I follow my gut and get the Hell out of there? I really wish I could say yes again.

"Just sign here." I did. The ink in the pen was red... I thought that that was kind of weird. To me it looked like blood; just the other day in chemistry we tested our blood-type. I was an -0  
but before I could ask the paper was hastily swiped shut.

I was slightly out of it and dumbfounded as I was pushed out of the classroom with the 'Encyclopedia of W&A' still in my arms. I could hear the door lock behind me.  
I wasn't in there for too long, so there were still plenty of students in the halls.  
I scurried to my locker as I pulled down my skirt with my free hand.

* * *

"What'd you get for homework?" Quinn asks on the way home, using his back-pack as a shield from the icy sleets of rain.  
I tell him, but leave out my special circumstances in English. He would only get jealous, or tease me because I'm not the best reader.

"What about you?" I asked back. He thought for a moment.

"Well, in Chemistry we tested our blood today..."

"I did yesterday."

"Oh, so you already know we have the rarest type; according to the packet."  
I nodded; Quinn gets oddly proud over tiny details of things like this;  
"I finished this book first, and they started before me!" and "I'm the only one who Mrs. Sanders called on four times today!"  
We all have someone in our life like that; and if you don't, it's probably you.

* * *

When we got home, we noticed mom's venture was gone.

"She must've gone shopping," says Quinn. I shrugged and opened our door.  
Kicking off my combat boots, I also shed myself of my wet coat, gloves, and hat. I matted down my frizzy hair and opened our fridge, rummaging for food.  
I ate my yogurt upstairs.

We didn't actually worry about mom until she never came home the next day.

* * *

Since today was Saturday, we didn't have school. Quinn and I spent the morning wondering around town for mom. We didn't see her van anywhere.  
We were so worried; but we thought that we should wait a day to tell the authorities; after all, she could have been at a party, gotten drunk, and then passed out.  
We spent the afternoon playing Wii and watching the rain (it was clear this morning, but we stopped looking because of it).

Quinn always beat me at tennis, even though I played it in real life. Quinn played basketball, golf, and chess, when I played Tennis, tennis, and tennis. It was fun to me; except the uniforms, which were skirts.

At about nine I went up the stairs to stay for the night.  
I sat on my bed and rummaged through my back-pack, removing all of my homework out. I liked getting it done on the first day of the weekend so I don't have to rush it.

Trigonometry is hard; that's why it took me an hour. And English was harder.  
I flipped the book open to the first page; the title page. Then the table of contexts; there was over seven hundred pages! Did he really expect me to finish this in two weeks?  
I decided to pick the topics that seemed the most interesting.  
I noticed that the page numbers were one apart; that meant that the articles were fairly short.

Scanning through the list, I saw the topic "Night walkers" on page 432.  
I flipped to that; only to find it blank. I felt very irritated, both because I didn't bother checking the book at school, and because Mr. Ferrymen was playing a joke on me.  
I turned back to the next page; blank. I continuously flipped through it; Blank, Blank, Blank. All of the pages were blank. Well, the page number was at the bottom, but that was it.  
I grunted in frustration, slamming the book shut and tossing it on my nightstand.

I really wasn't the type to stay up until all hours of the day, but I wasn't that tired; more like I had that nagging feeling weighing me down.  
I really wished mom would come home soon so that I could lie in her lap and have her brush my hair. She used to do that; she would sing to me too. Her voice was really silky, and beautiful.  
Quinn sounded like her, but a boy version. I inherited dad's voice, unless he could actually sing. I don't know, I've never met him.

I have a picture of him and my mom holding us as infants, still fresh out of our mother's womb and still in the hospital. Dad held me; the one who didn't cry, and mom held Quinn; the one with the fair skin.  
The picture was in my nightstand, right next to the book.  
I picked it up and lay down on my pillow.

Mom told me that dad was dead when I was eight: but when I was twelve, I accidentally knocked over mom's Bill Box. That was where she kept all of our bills and checks. As I was picking up, so she wouldn't find out, I found a check from dad. It was for child support.  
I ended up telling Quinn, and he helped me keep our knowledge a secret from mom. I kind of regret telling him; Quinn loved dad. That's why he played football, because dad loved it. Quinn quit playing it and joined the chess club when he was thirteen.

I set the picture down and got to my feet, heading to my bathroom. Since there were two bathrooms in our house, Quinn got his own and I shared mine with mom.  
I washed my face with my acne cleanser, my auburn hair back in a pony tail. With my bangs back, I attempted to squeeze my black-heads, only to retreat from the mirror in a jump when the door twisted open.  
Quinn blinked at me and shook his head, before saying,

"I'm going to report mom missing tomorrow first thing in the morning if she doesn't come home tonight." I nodded in agreement.  
"I'll go too." Quinn left, closing the door behind him.

I finished brushing my teeth and looked at myself in the mirror.  
Once my face was free of concealer, I could see all of my freckles. They irritated me to no end, same with my heart-shaped mole.  
My features, separately, were fairly nice. My nose was upturned slightly, my forehead was the right size, and my eyes were a Smokey grey, but together they didn't complement each other. My lips looked too thin under my nose, and my ears stuck out because my forehead was too small.  
I went back into my room to change into my PJ's, which consisted of back pajama pants and a white tank top.  
It was only ten-thirty, so I still wasn't too terribly tired.

I decided to read 'To Kill a Mockingbird' until I fell asleep.  
My mom read it once, and she loved it. She bought it so Quinn and I could read it, but...  
Actually, I think Quinn read it. It must be in his room. I made my way across the hall and knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" I heard behind the wood. I opened the door to find Quinn lying on his bed, reading the very thing I was looking for.

"Oh, well, I was going to ask for a copy of that book, but..."  
Quinn shook his head and reached it out to me.

"I read it already; I was just refreshing my memory for the report." I nodded and took it, turning to leave.

"Good night."

"Yeah, good night..."

"...Love you." I stopped at the entryway to his room and glanced back at him.  
Quinn hardly said that; well, I know how he feels, but we never really say that because we just don't have to. Quinn must be really worried about mom.

"Love you, too."

I ended up falling asleep that night with 'To Kill a Mockingbird' on my chest.

* * *

I've honestly never had a stranger dream; and trust me, there have been strange ones.  
In this dream, I was eight years old; at least around that age. I knew that because, 1): I was shorter, 2): My boobs were nonexistent (Quinn would make a joke right about now how nothing much changed since then) and, 3): this dream replayed the moment my mom told me dad was dead.

I was wearing a yellow sun-dress and yellow shoes. My hair, which was much more red back then, was short-cropped.  
In the dream, mom leaned down to my level with tears in her eyes.

"There was an accident. Your father's dead, Cherry Pie."  
That was my old nickname. I grew out of it, since my hair was much darker, and I don't like sweets anymore; at least, not pie.

I remember crying and hugging Quinn; wait, Quinn wasn't in the dream. I was all alone, bawling and hiccupping. Mom held me tight until I calmed down a little.  
I never remembered mom looking so tired when it really happened. But I did remember our neighbor, Kevin Aileen, rushing into our house.

When that happened, I realized what a strange dream I was having. It felt like the actual memory, except I knew that I was actually sixteen. And if it really was the memory, where was Quinn? Why did my house look so different?  
Mr. Aileen looked the same for the most part; he still had that long scar across his tan nose.

I remembered in reality that I ran up to my room when he came in, winded and worried looking. But I had no idea where my room was in this house so I head to the door Mr. Aileen just came through.

I heard my mother calling after me as I ran, unknowingly, still crying. I heard Mr. Ailenn tell her to let me go from outside.  
Once the sun hit my face, I had to stop. I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked around.

The buildings were tall, and had strange tiling on them. There were people everywhere on the dirt streets; they each had old fashioned clothes on, and every where I looked the signs were in a different language. But the strangest part was that I could read it; understand it.  
I felt panic; I'm not sure why I did during a dream, but I looked left and right for an opening; I had to get out of here. I was having a Conniption; and my throat was closing and I felt a pressure against the back of my eyes.

I saw a small opportunity between an old man and a cart. I ducked through it and had to step to my right because a woman was shaking out her rugs. I kept running after I shrieked and scared the wits out of her.  
After a few more seconds of sprinting, I realized I couldn't move very fast; my eight-year-old legs were too short.

Eventually I came to a part in the dream town where citizens were few; I think I saw three in the last block.  
I felt much calmer; not to mention tired. I was wheezing heavily, and I had to rest my hands on my knees.  
I thought back to what a weird dream this was; it felt so realistic. I realized I was hot and sweaty, and the sun beating down on my back made me thirsty, and exhausted. I really needed some shade. I looked around for a tree to sit underneath.  
I found one that was perfect; it was in the middle of town, it was thick, with a lot of shade, and it had a swing on it.  
The only problem was the boy on the swing.  
He had the spikiest hair I'd ever seen; it was an electric blonde, and defied the laws of physics.  
I was too hot to care about having someone share the shade with me, so I began to approach him. I didn't notice he was crying until I was practically next to him.

I didn't think he'd noticed me yet; a boy would have not been so open about crying unless he was alone. His sniffles were heartbreaking, and I felt the urge to pat him on the head. I thought it would be a little weird since we were both about the same age, but then I remembered that I was actually eight years older.  
So why not? It was only a dream, anyways. So I reached my hand out, and smoothed down his hair in a motherly fashion.  
He jumped off the swing, wiping his cheeks free of tears and giving me an accusing look.

"Did you just touch me?" I tried to say yes. Nothing came out. I tried to say it again; again; again. Nothing came out. Flabbergasted, I nodded my head, since he was waiting for a response.  
He crossed his arms, glaring at me. All sign of his tears were gone. I looked at his face more closely.

His skin was tan, and he had fox-like features, as well as whisker-like scars marking his cheeks and azure blue eyes.  
He was shorter than me be by about two inches; I was always tall until high school.

"Oh, I get it! Are you going to tease me, too?" He asked, not kindly. I winced; I wondered what got his panties in a bunch.  
I held my hands up in defense, since I realized my voice still didn't work. I shook my head.  
He put a finger to his chin as he scrutinized me, glancing over me.

When I was younger, my hair was twice as red as it is now. It was also usually in pigtails, and much shorter. I didn't wear make-up either, so my freckles were probably the first thing you noticed about me. My eyes were also probably still raw from crying earlier, which I'm not very sad about anymore; after all, dad wasn't dead.  
The boy grinned brightly at me.

"Hey, do you want to play? With me?" I grinned back at him, nodding vigorously. It actually did sound kind of fun.

"Say," he says. "What's your name?" I open my mouth to say Rikari, but nothing comes out. I guess I don't have a voice in this dream. I try sounding it out with my lips.

'Ri-Ka-Ri' the boy scratched his head.

"What was that?"

'Ri-Ka-Ri.'

"Hikari?" I shake my head.

"Ri-Ka-Ri'. The boy crossed his arms.

"Could'ya speak up?" I shake my head and shrugged. The boy blinked.

"You can't talk?!" He exclaimed, realization appearing on his face. I nod. The boy rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "S-so, I'll just call you Hika, then, okay?!" I pretend to giggle, and then nod.

Then boy thought deeply for a moment.

"Hmm... What should we play?" He asked excitedly, looking at me for help. I shrugged my shoulders. He went back to thinking. Suddenly, his tan face lit up. Grinning, he says,  
"Oh, I know! He then grabs my wrist and tugs me with him. Soon we're dashing off, ducking dodging, and hopping out of people's ways (and sometimes in them. I had a feeling this boy had a few grudges or two against some of these town's people).  
Even though our hands never broke contact, he still looked back at me every few seconds to make sure I was there; or maybe he wanted to see my expression.  
I found myself running much easier than before, since I wasn't having a panic attack.  
After a long time of this running and after the boy himself got winded like me, he released me for a break. I then saw where he was taking me.

I blinked. He was trying to take me into the forest surrounding this village I dreamed up.

Here's the problem with that; Ever since I was five, I'd been scared to death of the woods. Quinn and I had visited our grandmother's house, which was out in the surrounding forest.  
Quinn had chased me out of grandma's property and into the woods, and then he tried to scare me by telling me the tale of Bigfoot. Well, then our grandmother got worried and called for us, but I didn't hear her. So Quinn unknowingly left me out in the woods for hours while I was scared half to death of a giant monster with feet as long as my body. Grandmother ended up finding me about two hours after I lost Quinn. I never went into a forest again.

I tugged at other boy's sleeve with my free hand. He slowed to a stop and turned to look at me. Unfortunately, we were already at the forest's edge.  
"Stay in Town", I tried to mouth.

"What was that, Hika?" Boy, was it me? Or was this kid just that dim? I pointed to the forest.

"Oh, okay, you mean a tree?" I shook my head and gestured to the whole forest.  
"The woods? What about 'em?" I took a step away from them and crossed my arms. He seemed to realize what I meant. "Why won't you go into the forest?" He got an amused look on his face. "Are you a scardy-cat?" He asked.

I knew he was just teasing me for reverse psychology; Quinn tried that all of the time. But I'm a little too laid back to let a kid's I just met opinion cease my fear of the woods.  
So I just nodded my head.

"C'mon, you're seriously scared of a couple trees!?" He exclaimed, unbelievingly. I nodded again vigorously. The blonde face-palmed, then shrugged.  
"Well, I guess we can't play 'Hide-n'-Seek'. What do you want to do?" I hide my eyes behind my hands, then popped out of them and made a 'Boo' face. I pointed to town.

"You want to play it in town?" I nodded at his clarification. This boy was learning quickly. But he shook his head.  
"The old man told me to hang out where there weren't any villagers. Says I'm too destructive, or whatever." He scratched his cheek, his eyes squinted shut. He really did remind me of a fox.

I looked around for something else to do. Besides the swing back the way we came, it didn't seem like they had much anything to do for kids around here. And who knows? Maybe there was, but I'd never been here before. I remembered that this was a dream and tried to imagine something up. What about... If we had a flower meadow we could pick flowers. I'm not sure if this kid really wanted to do something like that, but I wasn't about to go into a forest, and I felt bad for him.  
He looked like he needed some cheering up.  
Sadly, no meadow appeared. So I tried mouthing 'flowers'. He didn't get it.

"Whatcha' mean, howlers?" I shook my head.

"F-L-O-W-E-R-S!" I sounded. He scratched his bland head again. I huffed, and dropped to my knees.

Now, with FLOWERS scribbled across the ground in my neat, 16-year old handwriting, I rose to my feet and dusted off my yellow dress.  
He blinked. He blinked again. I waited.  
"What does that mean?" I swear, I sweat-dropped. Couldn't he read? I certainly could by the second grade; at least, I could read 'Flowers'. I crossed my arms and scrutinized him.  
He blushed.

"So I'm not very smart, so what? At least I'm not a scardy-cat!" I stuck my tongue out at him, and he did the same, looking annoyed. I stomped my foot and crossed my arms, sticking my muscle out even farther. He copied.  
I was just about to continue teasing him when I heard my name.

"Rikari! Rikari! Where are you?" I returned my face to normal and looked back towards the way the boy and I had come. My mother, in her new, strange clothes, was wondering through the streets. She was just about to make the wrong turn, so I stuck my arm in the air and waved.

Luckily, she saw me, so her worried face disappeared and she dashed towards me.  
She seemed younger than in reality, but that may have been because she was actively doing something.

"So your name's Rikari..." I heard the boy say, next to me.  
When my mother reached me, she kneeled and placed her hands on my shoulders.

"Rikari! Don't run off like that!" I nodded. "What were you doing?" I looked for the boy, but he wasn't next to me anymore. Searching, I looked left and right, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen.  
"Never mind," Mom said, sounding tired, "let's just go home."

She lifted me up and carried me so I was facing behind her. Her skirt swishes against my thighs as she walked back down the street. I looked back for the boy.

It was easy to spot him when he was wearing that bright orange jumpsuit, and his hair was unnaturally blonde. He had hidden behind us, in the woods that we were arguing about entering.  
He looked sad again. I wouldn't tell my mom that I wanted to stay a little longer, but my voice was still gone.

I felt terrible when I saw his face, so... I smiled as wide as I could, and waved.

And then I woke up.

* * *

**Hello, there. I'm Mao. I was rereading my own fanfics when I realized something; I hadn't written a Naruto Fanfic yet! (Or a Fullmetal Alchemist one, a Death note one, and a Durarara one) So, I hustled right over to my computer and wrote like there was no tomorrow; just kidding. Chapter one would be waaaay longer, except I sometimes make them too long, and people lose interests.**

** I'm so sorry for any mistakes; I wrote most of this on my ipod, and it has the lamest autocorrect ever.**

** I tried correcting them, but I know I'll miss something. Thank you so much for reading this, and I promise it'll get better. PLease REview!**

_**Mao**_


	2. To Kill a Father

**Hello! Second chapter! I'm so excited! I've been espsecially proud of this idea...**

**Anyway, thanks to all who favorited, followed, and read. And here's a special thank to my first reviewer,_ anglewolf123_:**

**It's because of you that I felt so excited about writing this. Anyway, on with Rikari's story!**

**Disclaimer: I Don't own Naruto! Unless my name is Misashi Kishimoto; and it's not! (Sorry, just watched a marathon of 'Courage the Cowardly Dog').**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

I was wretched awake when Quinn snapped my bedroom light on.

"Geez!" I moaned, slapping my pillow over my head. It wasn't that late, was it?

"You were talking in your sleep, dummy," I heard Quinn tease, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"That's a little Ironic..." I mumbled.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," I said a little louder. "Turn the lights off; I'm trying to sleep here!"  
The lights stayed on. Peeking out from under my pillow, I glanced at my brother.

"...Quinn?" His face was solemn, and he never looked me directly in the eye.

"Mom didn't come home last night," he explains, scratching the back of his head. I sit up in my bed, my hair sticking to the back of my neck.

"Are you going to report her missing?" I ask in a small voice. Quinn sheepishly shuffles his weight.

"Yeah, but... I don't want to do it alone," he admits hesitantly.

"Give me twenty minutes," I decide, seriously. "I want to shower."  
Quinn nodded and left. I swiped my covers off and swung my leg over the side of my bed.

Then I noticed; the 'Encyclopedia of W&A' was sprawled out on my floor, open. Picking it up, I looked closely at it.

Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn there was something on this page. I couldn't see any specific words, but the formation of a paragraph was slightly imprinted on the paper. The page number was still clear as day, however; 432. As I continued to study the page it slowly became less evident, until there was nothing visible.

I guessed that I was just tired.

* * *

Sheriff Brown was a middle-aged man with a pot belly so large, I couldn't see his belt. He was well known around our town, and he was the first to come 'investigate' our house.

He looked like he was doing a good job; I seldom saw him take a break, but I guess the whole process took less than an hour.

"Her vehicle was not on the property..." he trailed off. He may have thought mom drove off without us, but Quinn and I knew better.

Mom was fairly well known around town, and I knew that anyone who saw her get in her car and just leave would have come forward eventually.

But nobody did.

The first three days were the easiest. We could live by ourselves, the authorities said, until Wednesday. That was when our god mother, and our aunt, could fly in from Alaska.

Nothing felt real until she got here. I found myself walking into mom's bedroom and expecting to find her underneath her cover, reading another book. One morning I woke up and realized I was crying, so I called for her. Quinn came instead.  
I think I was crying about my dream; I think I was at dad's funeral, but it's fuzzy. I never went to his in reality because, well, he wasn't really dead, but apparently he was in the dream.

I felt a little guilty about not caring too much about it the first time dream mom had told me.

Anyway, before Aunt Meredith got there, I half expected mom to come home. Living alone wasn't that hard, either; it seemed like one of mom's friends, or coworkers would drop by to check on is every hour. They brought plenty of food, and it almost felt like my brother and I were never alone.

I almost started crying again when I heard a knock on the door.  
Quinn got up from his spot on the couch next to me, clicked the T.V. Off, (we were watching the news in our living room; mom was all over it) and answered the door.

"Hi, Aunt Meredith," he greeted, his smile weak and thin. I don't think I've ever seen him so stressed out.

Our aunt was a slender, young woman in her late thirties. Her hair is blonde, and back in a not-so-good bun with her bangs in her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was irritated. I wondered briefly why she was so upset; she was my father's little sister, and I doubted she even met mom.  
And then I found out.

"Y-your f-father passed about three days ago," she cried, blowing her nose in a tissue. She had barely taken off her coat and sat down in our kitchen before the water works started. Quinn and I said nothing and watched her, until I offered her some tea.

"That sounds perfect," she sniffled. I decided that I, right away, didn't like Aunt Meredith that much. I never met her before, but I've seen pictures.

"You look exactly like him!" I heard her exclaim while I made her tea. She pinched Quinn's cheeks and gave him a suffocating hug.

I coughed to get her attention.

"Would you like one or two sugars?" I asked when she finally looked up at me.

"Oh, only one, please!" She said, straightening her back. I gave her two.  
After I gave her her cup, I announced I was going to bed.

"Already?" She questioned, checking her watch. "It's eight thirty!" I gave her a shrug.

"I've been a little tired over the last few days," I explain. I hate to admit it, but I tried to make the way I said it in a mean way, like a sarcastic way. But the reason was pretty obvious; Quinn and I practically just became orphans.

* * *

That night, for the third time, I had a dream in that village. During my second dream, I was still eight, dressed in black, and accompanying mom to my 'father's' funeral. I recognized plenty of people; even Aunt Meredith was there. Most of them were family members from my dad's side. My mother had been an only child, and both of her parents happened to be, too. I think she lost track of every member of her family who was still alive when my grandparents passed.

There was only one man I didn't recognize. He stood at the base of Dad's grave, wearing a white robe and a triangular shaped hat with red on the forehead. At first I thought he was a Priest; my dad had been catholic (we were Lutheran), but when people in black began to gossip about him, they referred to him as a 'Hokage'.

"He came all the way here?"

"Riku was K.I.A."

"I'm sure he's just paying his respects."

"By running his funeral?"

"Hush, the child can here you." I realized I was staring. I didn't wake up until after the funeral when the old man, with heavy wrinkles and a large age spot, made his way over to my mom and I. I never heard what he was going to say.

Anyway, my third dream began when I woke up in my 'bedroom'. It was a tiny, 'twelve by nine' room, with blue walls, a book shelf, a closet, a vanity mirror, and my twin bed. I looked myself over, while still lying in my bed. My legs were longer than before, if only a little, and my hair was slightly longer. Instead of pigtails, it was in a pony tail. I realized that, since I was still dressed in a green shirt, and black shorts, I hadn't just woken up. The sun shone through the window that I just realized was there. It was at least noon.

I rose to my feet, only to stop and look at myself in the mirror. My freckles were still there, but I was at that age where my head was too big for my scrawny legs and arms.  
In other words, I was ten, not eight. My green shirt's neck line was a square shape, with flowering embroidery. Hesitantly, I finally got up and opened my door.  
My room was at the end of a hallway, which was facing a second room. I assumed that was a bathroom. Sure enough, when I peeked, there was a bathtub and a shower. In between this and my room was a stair case. Descending it, I found that I had been on a second floor the whole time.

The first thing I saw at the bottom of the stairs was a living room. If I headed left there was a kitchen, if I headed right there was another hallway, with about four more doors. I heard a clanking noise to my left, so I entered the kitchen to see my mom chopping carrots on a wooden cutting board. Her back was too me. I felt a strange feeling of a mixture of relief, happiness, and sadness. I felt like this wasn't actually my mom. I was still conscious that I was dreaming. Needless to say, I was giving her a hug from behind anyway. She jumped, but quickly relaxed and turned in my grip to face me, laughing. I buried my tear-streaked face in her cooking apron. She smelled of roses.

"What's wrong, Rikari?" she asked, slightly concerned. Since I appeared to be ten, I'm sure she thought whatever was bothering me was trivial. I hugged her tighter.

Stroking my hair and rubbing circles on my back, mom said,  
"Why don't go outside and practice your kunai throwing while I make supper. You don't want to fall behind in the academy, do you? You're going back tomorrow, sickly!" she teased, gently guiding my to the door I ran out of the first dream. I didn't want to let go of her, but I also didn't feel like disobeying her.  
What were kunai? Was the academy where I went to school? I found myself walking around aimlessly around the dirt streets, which weren't as frightening and panic causing as the first time. I made sure to memorize where I had been just in case I wouldn't get lost.

"Rikari, dear!" I heard someone say. I turned to the left of the road to see an elderly woman, who was running a fruit stand, wave at me.

"How have you been, girl? I heard you were terribly sick." I recalled mom calling me 'sicky', so I nod.

"Are you feeling any better?" I nod again. "Good," she nods, satisfied and relieved. "For a moment there, everyone was a little scared. I haven't seen you walk in a month." She smiled. "Well, I'm sure you have better things to do than visit with an old women. Don't over-do it, dear." She returned her attention back to her stand when a man approached to purchase something.

I was sick? This was strange, since I haven't even met this person in reality.  
But I continued down the street, watching the people pass and carry on with their business.  
I think didn't realize the pack strapped to my thigh until I brushed my side against a passing women. I piled up my shirt, which had hidden it, and saw a tan pouch on my leg. How did I not notice that? I popped it open, only to quickly shut it. Looking around, I tried to spot anyone who saw its contents. Because inside the pouch was knives.

"Rikari!" I jumped, whipping around. Who else knew me? Had they seen the weapons? I relaxed when I realized it wouldn't matter; this was all a dream anyways.

"Rikari! Is that you?" I looked up to see none other than that blonde headed boy that o had meet the first dream. He didn't look much different, but he was wearing a different shirt; and black one with a swirl on the chest. I smiled at him, since it was at least someone I knew... Well, sort of.

"Been a while, huh?" He greeted, grinning like a maniac. It wasn't such a long time to me, but how long had it been to him? One, two years? I'm impressed that his remembered me in the first place, let alone recognize the back of my head.  
"I'd remember that silly red hair anywhere!" He exclaimed, now steadily getting closer. I stuck my tongue out at him. He returned the lowly gesture. When I saw how childish I was acting, I burst into laughter. Well, I would have, but I still didn't have my voice.  
The boy saw me try to laugh, so he did too. His laughter was full, and mischievous. When he finally finished, he asked,

"So, I heard you were attending the academy?" I nod. "I haven't seen you there, so I asked around, and I heard you were sick..." He trailed off, glancing at me. I gave a shrug, signaling that it was no big deal.  
"You were so sick, you nearly missed the whole first year at school, and you shrug?!" He exclaimed, scratching his head in confusion. I shrug again, my shoulders shaking with laughter. The boy narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but with a joking manner. Leaning in, he put his hand on my forehead, pretending to take my temperature.

"You sure you're okay to be out and about? You look kinda pale!" He teased, grinning at my annoyed face. Smirking, he leaned back with his arms behind his head. Unconsciously, the two of us had continued walking on our way.

"So what were you doing?" He questioned. I shrug. "You were just wondering around?!" he exclaimed, scratching the back of his head. "Wanna do something with me, then?" I nod. He grins.  
"Cool!" He thinks for a moment. "Do you want..." He gives me an evil look, "to go play hide and seek in the woods?" I playfully punch him in the shoulder as shivers ran down my spine. He laughed at me.  
"You're scared of forests, but you live in Konoha?" Konoha? Was that the name of the village? I shrug again; boy, holding a conversation with no voice sure is difficult. I could only use short, universal body language. I didn't know a lick of sign language, unfortunately, and I doubted he knew it anyway. Maybe he could read lips a little better?

We walked in a strange silence until the boy coughed. I glanced up at him to see that he was avoiding my eyes and blushing.

"So you're going to school soon, now that you're better, right?" I smile and nod, recalling that mom had mentioned something about returning tomorrow.

"When?!" He cried, excited. I shrugged. His face deflated, but how was I suppose to say tomorrow? He shook it off.

And we walked in silence until I decided I should head home. I didn't want to ask him what Kunai were, since it seemed like I should know, so I left my question unanswered.

In all honesty, I would never have made a friend so quickly in reality. But I felt more open and confident because I wouldn't have to worry about consequences. Well, my morals kept me from robbing people of their delicious smelling food, but that may have also been the promise mother had of dinner.

I missed mom's cooking a lot. I must have been staring at some pork on a stick, because the boy suddenly asked,

"Are you hungry, too? Want to go get some ramen?" I shook my head, but grab his hand. I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind treating him to supper, right?  
"Want to eat with me?" I sounded out. He seemed to understand. He shook his head gravely.

"I already have plans," he said quietly. I shrugged again, trying to say I didn't mind. He scratched his head.

"Well, I better get going. Don't want to keep Iruka Sensei waiting." I blink at him; the last time I heard the word 'sensei', I was watching an old samurai movie from the 80's.

"Oh, yeah, you don't know him. He's our teacher at the Academy. You'll like him."

By the way, wasn't this boy supposed to be in school, too? It must have been later than I thought when I left my house.

Just as we were about to go our separate ways, I remember something. I jump in front of the boy to get his attention.

"What's your name?" I mouthed slowly, making sure he understood.

"My name?" I smile and nod. I thought it would have taken him longer to figure that out. He grinned.

"It's Naruto Uzumaki, and don't you forget it!"

I woke up before I even made it home in time for dinner. Needless to say, I never got any 'Kunai' practice in.

* * *

After that day, Aunt Meredith got better. She apparently cleaned the house that night when I went to bed, and made breakfast

Aunt Meredith, apparently, cleaned the house that night when I went to bed, and made breakfast the next morning. She watched my brother and I eat our omelets in silence, playing with her apron nervously; possibly because it was mom's old one. She hardly ever cooked with it on now, since she'd gotten batter.

Aunt Meredith was about ten years younger, so I'm sure she wasn't as skilled in the culinary arts yet.

Our entire house was silent, save for the TV that was seemingly on 24/7.

When Quinn and I had finished breakfast, I put my plate in the sink and sat right back down in my spot. I found a stain on the table to stare out while Quinn followed my example.

Soon we all just sat there, gloomy, solemn, and quiet.

I think it took every bit of courage Aunt Meredith had to clear her throat. I slowly raised my eyes to her face. She would not look me in the eyes.

"Look, I thought I wouldn't have to be the one to tell you this, but... Well, it's about how you're father died." This got my attention; she hadn't mentioned anything about his cause of death, and I hadn't asked. Quinn pushed his glasses back into place.  
Today Aunt Meredith had her hair down. It was wavy, and thick. She used it to hide her face.

"He was murdered. You're mother is the prime suspect."

I was so shocked; I swore my jaw hit the floor.

Mom couldn't have. There was no way. Why would she, anyway? Dad paid child support; at least, he use to. And I guarantied she hadn't the slightest clue where he was staying. Quinn took this harder than me.

He rose to his feet and slammed his fists on the table.  
"That's not true!" He shouted at our poor Aunt. Never before had I seen him blow his top, but now was understandable.

"You don't believe that yourself, so you?" I asked my aunt. She lowered her eyes from the table to the floor.

"How could you!? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and you BELIEVE it?" My brother cried, raising his fist.

"Quinn." He froze, looking at me. He was furious, as was I. I'm not sure why I stopped him.  
I turn back to Aunt Meredith.  
"Well? Do you believe it?" She tried to say something, but I interrupted her. "Look me in the eye and tell the truth."  
Aunt Meredith looked about ready to die, but she brought her blue orbs to mine.  
"I-I don't see another explanation." I closed my eyes. I could see her logic, but she never met my mother; she had no right to judge her. And why weren't we told about this sooner?

"Mom didn't know where dad was! She told us he died years ago!" Quinn argued. Aunt Meredith looked shocked.

"You thought he was dead the entire time? He was staying with me and your grandmother!" She shook her head.  
"And all this time he thought oh hated him." She looked back up at us, her face more determined.

"Don't you see? You're father was about to visit you! You're mother was trying to keep him out of your lives for good!"  
"I said she 'told' us he was dead, but we knew all along." Quinn snarled. Aunt Meredith shook her head.

"I know you don't want to believe it, but look at the facts. It was obviously-"

"Was it proven yet?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

"W-what?"

"Was she proven guilty?"  
"Well, not officially, but..."  
"Then I don't believe it," I stated, nodding my head and leaning back. Aunt Meredith frowned, taking a shaky breath.

"Listen to me, kids, you're mother is a-" She never got to finish that sentence.

Unconsciously, or possibly consciously, I had struck my arm out and slapped her across the face. I hadn't even realized I was doing it, but I never regretted it.

"Go ahead and believe what you want to, but don't you dare try to change our minds, ever again," I seethed. My aunt visibly paled.  
"Go ahead and think whatever you want about my mother," I continued, rising to my feet,

"But don't you dare try to change how I see her!"

I stormed up to my room.

Aunt Meredith got better after that.

* * *

I spent the rest of the day catching up on my homework, since Quinn and I hadn't gone for the whole week; it was Thursday already. Yesterday, Aunt Meredith said that we could start going again on Monday.

I got caught up all of the way, and I even finished 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. But I didn't get done until late.

I hadn't left my room since breakfast, so I snuck into my bathroom to get cleaned up for bed, since I hadn't apologized to Aunt Meredith yet. I swear I'm not the kind of person to freak like that regularly. It was hard to hear 'your mother may have killed your father'.

After I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I tip-toed back to my room. Carefully, I shut my door with precision and-  
"Are you avoiding someone?" I jumped, whipping around and slamming my back into my partially open door, causing it to close with what seemed louder than an elephant's cry. I winced when I saw it was only Quinn on my bed.

He smiled weakly at me as I climbed on to my bed next to him. I noticed the picture of the day the two of us were born in his hand. I studied his face as he traced mom's outline with his pinky.

Quinn looked tired. His cheeks were puffy from crying, and he was slouching.

I remembered how I dreamed about my dad's funeral the night before I found out about it I'm reality. Quinn has not been there, and I wondered why; Quinn was my best friend. Wouldn't he be at his own father's funeral?  
I shook it off. It was a dream; it didn't actually happen like that.

Quinn started to shake. I wondered how different he would have been now if he hadn't quit football. He loved it more than life itself when he was twelve.  
All our lives, we never knew our dad. Mom didn't tell us he was dead until we were eight, but I think that was because we accidentally asked about him more than once.

All I ever knew about him, mom had told me.

"His dream was to play for the NFL," and,  
"He was the best quarter back his high school ever had."  
Quinn began to play football after dad 'died'.  
I think it made him happy; not the sport, but the idea of being like his dad. When I told him Dad wasn't really dead, a twinkle in his eye went away.

But now, he was a shaking, sniffling, crying fifteen year-old who wanted his mom.

And I did too. I felt my eyes grow got as the tears came.

I hugged my brother tight as we both cried that night.

At least we have each other. At least I have Quinn.

* * *

When we both calmed down, we started talking and reminiscing.  
"You remember when Mrs. Swarly gave you special treatment when you told her our dog died?" I asked, laughing.

"Ginger was my best friend!" I Quinn mimicked, rubbing his eyes in a comical fashion.  
We never had a dog.

"Remember when you got out of gym because you sprained your ankle? You brought a crutch and everything!" He teased.

I laughed for the first time all week.

"Hey, what's this?" Quinn exclaimed. He picked up the 'Encyclopedia of W&A'. "Rikari actually has a book in her room?"  
I playfully punched him in the arm. I read quite a bit, but compared to Quinn, my reading level was that of a third grader's. Quinn flipped the book open.  
"There's nothing-" I began, but stopped.  
On the pages were words! I snatched it from Quinn, but when I tried to focus on them, they quickly began to fade. But they had definably been there!

"Why do you have a blank book?" Quinn questioned. I looked up at him.

"Didn't you see it?" I asked. Quinn shrugged. I returned back to the book. What the he'll was this thing? I looked at the page number; 432. This was no coincidence.

"Quinn," I asked, "Have you ever heard of 'W&A' before?" He shrugged.

"Sounds like initials. We can look it up," He said.  
"Okay-" I started, but Quinn rose to his feet.  
"Tomorrow; it's eleven already, and I need to do some homework. Besides, the Internet is being monitored for any signs of mom trying to make contact. They asked us not to us it if it's unnecessary." I nod slowly.

Quinn opened the door a crack before turning back to me.

"By the way, what you said to Aunt Meredith was pretty cool." He smirked.  
"Nighty night, don't let the bed bugs bite!"  
"Yeah, well, you can just bite me, too!" I stuck my tongue out at him, but quickly sucked it back in my mouth. Quinn laughed and left.

I hadn't done that since I was ten. Wait, I actually did it last night, didn't I? I shook my head and climbed under the covers.

* * *

The fourth dream was just as strange as the first three.

I didn't have one every night, so two in a row was a little strange, but four really isn't that much in the first place.

I sat up in my bed. I was back in that blue, tiny room again. Sitting up, I found myself in a similar position. And age, and clothes. I jumped to my ten year old feet, my green shirt swishing around me. It was a little right at the sleeves, but flowed down to my waist like a waterfall. The flowering embroidery was the same, and my black shorts were the same.

I dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Just like last time, mom was chopping up vegetables. I ran and hugged her again, not entirely surprising her. She laughed.

"Are you feeling better?"

'Yep!' I mouth. I didn't even notice that my voice was still broken. Mom seemed to understand me.  
"School starts in an hour; would you like some breakfast?" I nod and grin. I missed mom's food. She finished chopping the onions while I watched with a content smile on my face. If only Quinn could have these dreams, too!

Mom began to hum, like she usually did. She tossed onions, carrots, and olives onto some eggs while she scrambled them, and finally put it on two separate plates. I ate mine before she even sat down next to me. Laughing, she said,  
"You must really be excited for your first day of school!" I nod.

Mom patted my hair.  
"Now, I know you might feel like you're not as smart as the other kids, but remember; you missed the entire first year!" She leaned forward.  
"And when you felt well enough, you studied. I heard that the first year was only focused on books," She whispered. "And there are plenty of girls in your grade, so you should make plenty of friends!" I frowned; did I really have to leave her?

"And you don't have to tell anyone why you can't talk; I know how you hate explaining." I blinked.

"How did I lose my voice?" I asked her. But nothing came out, of course. Mom felt my forehead.  
"Are you sure you feel alright?" She asked, concerned.  
"How?" I mouthed again. She blinked.  
"Honey, you got sick in my tummy. You could never talk..." She hugged me,  
"But your personality says enough. You'll make a first friend today, I bet!" She released me, and shoved me out of the door. You don't want to be late! Remember, just turn right at the fourth corner, and you won't get lost.  
Mom guided me out of the house and on the road against my silent protests.

She smiled from the doorway.  
"I love you, Rikari!"  
And then she closed the door, and I was alone.  
Well, not technically, since the village was buzzing with people. I guess all I could do was go to school. So, following my mother's kind instructions, and went right.

One turn, two turns, three turns, four turns. Turn right. So I did. And stopped when I saw what I can only describe as a school.  
All of the children who were left weren't hanging about, but were heading inside the building in a steady stream. I followed them, not sure where I was going.

There surprisingly wasn't that many kids; just a little over two classes' worth. There was only one classroom that the kids would enter, so I had no trouble finding my way around the halls. All of the other rooms had their doors closed.

The classroom was like a college one. Not all of the seats were filled, but there were kids crowed around certain desks. I randomly picked one in the second row, next to the window. I didn't stare out of it like in reality, though. Instead, I got a good look at every kid. Thank goodness none of them saw me staring; that would have been awkward. There were several I examined longer than other. There was a girl with pink hair! Could you imagine? She would have been pretty, but her forehead was a little too wide for her face. But who am I to judge?  
The prettiest girl, who I looked the at most, had the prettiest lavender hair. Her eyes were a milky white. She sat by herself, fidgeting.  
Another kid who got my attention was a boy everyone seemed to be fascinated with. He sat with a brooding expression, facing forward. His eyes were dark, and his hair was spiked. The pink haired girl and a blonde girl, among others, were vying for his attention. I didn't get a good enough look to really see him all that well.

The only other noticeable boy was a kid with a grey hood. He had a dog inside his coat.  
What a strange dream.  
I was looking at the pretty girl again when I was finally noticed. Sort of.

"Geez, I go to the bathroom for five minutes..." I look up to see a bored looking boy with his hands in his pockets approaching my. At first, I thought he was talking to someone else, but I had no one sitting next to me. I blinked at him.  
He had dull brown hair up in a pony tail, and it looked like he was sighing with every breath he took.  
"Look," he began, avoiding my eyes in a nonchalant way. "I normally wouldn't make a big deal about this, but that was my spot. I like to look out the window." I blanket again. When he sighed again, I nodded slowly and got to my feet. I slipped into the seat next to it, returning my gaze back to others. This guy didn't seem like the kind of guy who wanted to start a conversation.  
"Thanks," He sat next to me. I assumed he would stare out the window, like he'd said, but apparently I wasn't as invisible as usual.  
"Hey, I don't know you, do I?" I shook my head. "He leaned back in his chair.  
"Good, I didn't recognize you." He closed his eyes for a moment, but snapped them open.  
"Hey, you're not Shikari, are you?" I shook my head. Wait... Shikari? "The girl who missed last year because she got sick?"  
_'Ri_-ka-ri!' I mouthed. The boy looked at me, unblinking.  
"_Ri_-Kari?" He asked, scratching his head. I smiled and nodded.  
"Geez," he groaned, closing his eyes again. "I can tell you're going to be trouble." I stuck my tongue at him, but he didn't see it.

It wasn't too long before class started.  
"Okay, well, we're back from break! I expect you all studied over the duration!" Our teacher stated, entering the room.

I recognized him; it was my neighbor, Kevin Aileen! I faintly recalled he was a kindergarten teacher in my old elementary. He was hired the year after I was in the second grade.  
I found myself thinking, for the hundredth time, that this was such a weird dream.

* * *

**Please review! It would mean so much to me! Thank you for reading!**


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